Devolution, piracy and banking meet in Mombasa

[vc_row][vc_column width=”2/3″][vc_column_text]I spent the better part of last week down in Mombasa and arrived at three conclusions: firstly, devolution works. Secondly, banking, as we know it in Kenya will have to change or it will die. Thirdly, the ghosts of the Indian Ocean piracy rackets roam freely in Mombasa’s environs.

My visit to Mombasa was primarily to see the market and the distribution of a particular fast moving consumer good (FMCG) that I will hereafter refer to as product X. Since devolution shifted a hitherto unknown sum of money to the coastal counties, there was more money in circulation, as county governments became direct buyers of goods and services within counties. Of course the providers of those goods and services then have more cash with which to hire employees or buy supplies both of which activities means that funds are moving further down the food chain. Employees, for example, now have cash with which to pay rent, buy food and clothing items as well as not-so- discretionary items like airtime. Suppliers of biros, wheelbarrows or condom dispensers to the county governments have to purchase them from a wholesaler, or perhaps a supermarket and more funds go into the system. You catch my drift, I’m sure. Anyway, movement of product X (and many other FMCGs) has grown in the last two years since devolution occurred simply because there’s more cash in circulation. Now how that cash gets into circulation is another story, whether it is through a legitimate procurement or inflated “tenderpreneurship”. The upside is that Nairobi’s position as a primary market becomes increasingly diluted and greater revenue diversification occurs for the manufacturer. In short, it is not only members of county assemblies (MCAs) that have benefitted from devolution funds. Legitimate private businesses have found 46 wider markets within which to focus on. Devolution, from a business perspective, must stay. It is also noteworthy that the movement of product X has moved deeper into the coastal interior following the tourism downturn. As many of the hotels have been closed and the staff laid off, there has been an urban to rural migration that has led to demand for “urban” goods deeper in the coast interior. Distributors have therefore had to reconfigure their distribution routes to follow the market demand.

Which leads me to my second conclusion: the ever growing disruption of banking as we know it. Tracking the coastal distribution of this product in the last 8 weeks, the team found that cash payments had moved from 75% in the beginning of September 2015 to 37% by the beginning of November. Conversely, mobile payments on the Mpesa and Equitel platforms have moved from 17% to 54% in the same 8-week period. The reason? The core distributor had chosen to absorb the mobile payment charges as these were found to be eating into the razor thin margins of the downstream retailers, hence their resistance to using the Mpesa and Equitel payment platforms. If you have ever paid someone using your mobile phone and they tell you the now ubiquitous peculiar Kenyan lingo “na utume ya kutoa” you will know what I am talking about. During the same period, payments using the banking system remained flat at 8%. In short, retail business in the economy has been and will continue to be quick on the uptake for mobile payments as its incredibly safer due to zero cash handling and leaves an electronic trail that can be used to build an indelible, legitimate cash flow history for future borrowing needs. The obvious evolution will be for the absorption of the mobile payments cost further and further up the value chain, ending up at the manufacturer. With these costs absorbed as distribution costs, mobile payment systems will become the primary methodology for movement of money in the FMCG space and the winners will be the banks sitting on the Mpesa float accounts, currently numbering not less than ten as well as Equity Bank.

Finally, to my third conclusion: Driving through Nyali, specifically Links Road that has morphed into the commercial superhighway of a formerly quiet, upmarket neighborhood, one is shocked by the concrete jungle that has emerged. An architectural travesty has arisen, with tall, dull colored buildings juxtaposed with short, squat faceless structures that have numerous “For Sale/To Rent” signs hanging forlornly on their shiny fences. Anecdotal evidence points to proceeds of Somali piracy being used to put up the buildings. It is a clear case of “if you build they are not guaranteed to come.” There are even more empty apartment blocks in Shanzu, standing tall amongst the many boarded up beach hotels and curio shops that have called it quits during Kenya’s devastating tourism downturn.

Real estate continues to provide the fastest way to launder large cash based criminal proceeds. Buying land, then the building materials and labor costs are all cash intensive initiatives that gladly suck liquidity out of the hiding place at the bottom of the criminal’s mattress. Buying finished buildings is even faster. But the music stopped playing on the piracy routes, almost exactly at the same time as the terrorist attacks stepped up in Kenya leading to the economic downturn at the coast. It’s important to note that I am not saying all the buildings that have come up were funded via illegal proceeds, but those that were just added to the grief of the legitimately funded buildings: No tenants.
Which gets me thinking about why the same is not happening in Nairobi. Why does the commercial and residential building stock continue to grow? Outside of insurance type corporates flush with liquidity, and Chinese contractors importing cheap borrowed funds from their banks, who or what is fuelling additional building stock using cash rather than borrowing? It bears noting that overpriced wheelbarrows, biros and hospital gates continue to gain traction and if our the music ever stops playing in the corruption concert, the specter of empty buildings standing forlornly in Nairobi’s mid to upmarket addresses will undoubtedly follow.

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The ticks and fleas of Kenya’s economy

[vc_row][vc_column width=”2/3″][vc_column_text]Have you ever been to the Masai Mara to watch the annual wildebeest migration? It is an awesome sight to behold. My best part is watching as a large herd of wildebeests gets to the point where they have to cross the Mara river, which is teeming with crocodiles. A patina of pregnant expectation fills the air as the wildebeest mill around the steep embankments, mulling the treacherous but inevitable crossing. The crocodiles lick their chomps in readiness. But what is interesting to observe is that it takes a long time before the lone nut, the valiant self appointed leader of the wildebeest takes the suicidal leap into the waters. The few seconds when the first hooves sail in the air is all it takes for the other animals mucking about on the sides to mobilize themselves into a frenzied march of followers. The river then becomes a battlefield filled with thousands of animals cleaving the riverbed for traction and trampling on crocodiles as they cross en mass to the promised land on the other side.

I would be remiss if I failed to talk about the ongoing teacher’s strike which is much like watching wildebeests at the Mara River crossing. The teacher’s union and its members are the lone nuts, the valiant, self appointed leaders of Kenya’s public work force who have decided to take the first jump. They have entered into an unpleasant face off with the government, akin to entering a gunfight armed with a toothpick. The President fired the cannonball last week: “Can’t pay, won’t pay” but the teachers have stayed put. The government’s point remains extremely valid that there’s not enough money to go round. The government recognizes that if it gives in to the teachers, then the other public officers will also want to jump behind them: doctors, nurses, police, civil servants all following the courageous fight demonstrated by the teachers on how to cross the river to the promised land.

But what should worry us more was the headline in last Wednesday’s Daily Nation: “Former councillors demand Kshs 18 billion”. These chaps want to be paid a one off gratuity that comes to Kshs 18 billion and a monthly pension of Kshs 30,000 per ex-councillor which comes to about Kshs 4 billion annually. Listening to the sycophantic soundbytes on radio for support of the councillor’s proposals from two senators who previously held cabinet positions in the Kibaki administration, I realized that our collective sanity as a country fell off the precipice of normalcy when we signed the new constitution. Somehow the new constitution seems to have us all in a catatonic state of hypnosis where we cannot connect the dots between what goes into the government coffers and taxes collected from blood, sweat and tears of production. The same state of hypnosis allows us to view government revenue as a line item of self-entitlement; one that is fair game for all of us to take a swipe at given whatever opportunity presents itself.

But let’s step back to the idyllic wildebeest scene at the Mara River. Wildebeest, like many wild animals, are often crawling with ticks and fleas. The problem with these parasites is that they survive by sucking blood from their very unwilling hosts. The ticks and fleas today are in the form of retired legislators and God knows which other retired constituency who are watching the unfolding teachers drama with relish. The timing of the councilors absurd request for remuneration is suspect and is in complete and utter disregard of the capacity of the government to pay existing public officers.

The teachers have every right to demand for their salary increase. It’s nothing short of appalling to see what a teacher who changes the lives of students earns in a month and compare it to the Kshs 1.3 million monthly remuneration of senators and MPs whose impact on us is, well, let me plead the fifth on my views. A monumental battle has emerged and the battlefield has innocent children as its pawns.

But a crisis should never be wasted. In order to make a fire, you must burn wood. This is a good opportunity for the government to force dialogue on the wastage of resources at both central and county level. The Kshs 100,000 wheelbarrows, Kshs 2 million facebook pages, Kshs 7 million hospital gates, numerous MCA tourism jaunts you name it, we’ve got it. The Kenyan public needs to become angry. Frothing-at-the-mouth-like-a-rabid-dog kind of angry. We need to start connecting the dots between what the government raises in revenue in taxes and what is being embezzled and wasted in the form of high salaries and endemic corruption.

The children twiddling their thumbs at home and the national exam candidates who are currently rudderless in their final countdown to exams will force these conversations to happen at mwananchi level. The dialogue needs to focus on the need for austerity, on the need to bring our collective madness and parasitic greed for government resources to a screeching halt. Sadly this fire of austerity that needs to be created will use our children as the wood to burn itself.

So dear Government of Kenya: Don’t waste this crisis. Ride this crisis tiger. Let it buck and sway as it tries to throw you off. Let the public get angry with you, send out your mouthpieces to start throwing views on the need for austerity and flip that script rapidly to turn the anger on the source of high recurrent expenditure. Wheedle the public to come out of their houses and into the streets to demanding for the end of high salaries to fat cat legislators and an end to the endemic corruption at central and county government level. Let the public wail and gnash their teeth each time parasites like former councilors emerge, demanding to eat from the perceived bottomless feeding trough. Stoke the conversations about ending the power of legislators to define their own salaries. An angry public will support you.

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Twitter: @carolmusyoka[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/3″][/vc_column][/vc_row]